The Dragon Games
by The Midnight's End
Summary: An Albino Night Fury tells her tales from her most important year "participating" in the Games. She's been supporting Island 12 for 184 years and she's going to take back the land that rightfully belonged to her. Island 13. The distroyed island was her home, and she'll have to get past the Arena first. Accepting Dragon and Viking OC's! No godlike Vikings please!
1. Chapter 1

Prologue:

Silver

Hey, I have participated in the Dragon Games for as long as I could remember. Eating, killing, and slashing through thousands of either innocent or deathbound children. I hated it. The one devil of a child that won, would have probably turned on his or her own Island member. The one that had won, would have to try and _not_ lose a limb while resting a hand or appendage on my head. No one ever succeeded, luckily for my sanity. I would never allow the people to touch me with out getting a "present". I hate these games, I would never accept the fact that I was a part of this mess. 184 years ago, I was just a hatchling, and the Islands rebelled against the Capitol. Twelve were defeated, while one was... how do you say, nuked? It was awful, for almost all of the Night Furies were living there, including my family. I was apparently too special to be blown to bits.

I now know why they refuse to kill me.

For I am,

an Albino Night Fury.

...

(Did I just ryme? o_o)


	2. Chapter 1 Morning in the Arena

Chapter 1

Morning in the Arena

I wake up after my sweet bed of ashes had cooled, turning into an unconfortable pile of flimsy shards. I stretch my wings and legs, enjoying the quick, sharp pain of the muscles loosening and relaxing. I look up at the sky, the beautiful, cloudless sky. It sucks that I was in the Dragon Games' Arena. I sigh and start searching for food, not really wanting to eat and kill humans this year. I felt a slight rumble underneath my feet. I burst into a nearby tree, watching the Whispering Death glance around for it's supposedly shocked to death victim, me. It's poor eyes, completely white, prove why it should keep it's ugly, mangled head in the Earth's crust. I shoot a quick burst of blue and white fire, immediately combusting the juvenile dragon. I glide down, about to dig in for the crisp meal, but a small herd of Terrible Terrors beat me to it. I flatten my ears, trying so hard to _not_ to kill the hatchlings, I have a weak heart wrapped in a fire hardened shell. I can't kill anything smaller than me, dragon wise.

The herd scuttled away, stomachs bulging with the meal. I smile slightly at the babies, their eyes completely bugging out of their miserably puny skulls. I've always wanted to have chidren of my own, but being a Night Fury, it's not necessary, but highly recomended by the Game Makers. It's obvious that I do not appreciate their decisions, so why do what I am being "forced" to do? There are in fact, three other Night Furies in the Arena, and what's the funny part? They're all male, Moon, Toothless, and Silent. Silent is your average... y'know, killer, while Toothless is laidback and calm. Moon has practically my personality, just with guy characteristics thrown in there someplace. I head down towards open water in a small lake nearby, watching for some bass or carp. As one came closer, I readied my claws for nothing. The sound was clear, loud, but clear. I launched my body upwards, and began elevating higher in the Arena's warm air. The updrafts were extremely pleasant, for I could not stand the fact of being cold.

I reached the cornicopia in a short while, the clock was about to reach its end. I let out a blood-freezing screech wich made some of the children stagger, I couldn't wait for the games to begin so my plan would be in full effect.

I did a sharp U-turn (wouldn't be a V-turn then?), and dove right towards the dome like structure. The tributes were running now, but I knew that I would beat all of them to it. I roughly landed on the dome, creating a loud clang, and all the viking children stop dead in their tracks. The poor souls that were being forced to go through all of this. Only Island 1 tributes had the right to give their lives, for they already lived in prosperity. I would have to kill one myself. I let out a low, dark growl, warning them to stay the fuck away. One cocky girl decided she could grab a backpack, but she was quickly blown to bits by a stray mine. I let out a few chuffs of laughter, one less child to kill, I growl to myself.


End file.
